


Simple Need

by Chrysize



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 10:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19392289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysize/pseuds/Chrysize
Summary: It’s uncommon for Genji to accord much space to intimate desires these days.





	Simple Need

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick fic for a cyborg that has mastered self-acceptance but still struggles with self-love, finally giving himself some much needed release. intentionally vague cause i got too many genji ships rip.

Too often Genji's own feelings about his body sour the idea of pleasuring himself before it can grow beyond a passing intimation of a fantasy–he chides himself for his own negativity, but by then it’s no use trying to rekindle the thought.

Tonight though, he’s nagged by a desire that persists past his insecurities, lingering until the tightly coiled knot of want in his stomach can no longer be ignored. When he finally has a chance to retreat to his assigned quarters (with a polite request for Athena to turn off visual and audio input for an hour or so), he seeks a moment to center himself. One by one, armor plates detach from their ports and bracketing, abdominal lights dimming as they disconnect from his system. For a moment he imagines a lover going through the same careful motions, hands below his to be instructed on the correct way to remove his protective gear–the thought is far more flustering than it should be for such a simple intimacy. But the tightness in his gut only twists itself more sharply, a needy throb at the hint of a thought that his scars could be considered kissable, worthy of fingers caressing and tracing.

Bare of armor where it protects the softer human parts, he lies back against the bed and smooths a hand over his stomach; the difference in sensitivity between synthetic signals and organic nerves makes it easier to imagine instead a different hand trailing along his front, a lover’s fingers drawing downward and gently wrapping around his cock. He’s painfully hard by now, his own touch forcing a sharp breath that just shies away from a moan for want of modesty. His younger self would be laughing at such sensitivity, a once playboy now so withdrawn from his own needs that when he can bring himself to attend to them he’s already trembling with just a light touch.

His free hand presses to his lips to better maintain the quiet, and with legs parting, Genji strokes himself to an embarrassingly quick climax, needing only his earlier fantasy to send hips bucking upward and cum spilling in an arc across his chest. The aftershocks linger for just a little while, and he takes in the warmth of it. He’s still too sensitive though… still teased by his own desires and fantasies.

Another uncommon occurrence–he begins to stroke once more, face crumpling with a hint of discomfort but far more pleasure at pushing past the sting of too-taut nerves to seek a second climax. This one takes longer, even as he thinks of being kissed and fingered and attended to as lovingly as possible, thoughts that have him burning to the touch with the flush of both embarrassment and lust. His modesty wavers a little, a low moan slipping between his fingers, and the heat on his skin only worsens, cum-slicked hand pumping faster along his cock in time with the thrusting of hips. Worse still, his mind goes to thinking of a partner clenching tight on him, hot and needy and wet, moaning his name–of fingers buried inside him and thrusting, curving just right–

He comes again, another messy helping of cum trailed over his front while he sucks in rapid breaths. The flickering indicator of his processing core warns of his pacemaker kicking in, but the exhausted afterglow has him too tired to care, still gently drawing fingers along an oversensitive glans and groaning quietly. There’s no energy for a third round, nor cum for that matter; he’s spent himself, and what embarrassment might lie in having so little endurance is thankfully dulled by the warmth of two good orgasms.

Cleaning up is in order… but for right now, he’s going to languish in the pleasure he’s given himself.


End file.
